Custard Tarts and Broken Hearts (27 page)

His loud boy’s voice roused the sleeping woman and Nellie heard her croaking voice calling. ‘Michael! Is that my Michael?’

Nellie rushed in from the scullery and knelt beside the truckle bed. ‘It’s Nellie, Mrs Gilbie. That’s just your Charlie come home.’

For an instant she thought Lizzie didn’t understand. Her glassy eyes looked past Nellie, seemingly searching for someone who was not there. Then she fell back.

‘No, I remember now, not Michael. What a fool I am,’ she said weakly. Then, recognizing Nellie, she asked, ‘Have you seen my Sam?’

‘No, but I’m sure he’ll be home soon, Mrs Gilbie.’ Nellie stroked the woman’s hair from her face.

‘I don’t think I can wait, love.’ The large liquid-blue eyes were now full of her usual intelligence and she looked at Nellie, in full understanding. ‘I think you’d better get him. I’ll hang on. Can you get my Sam for me?’

Nellie was galvanized. ‘I’ll get him, Mrs Gilbie. Charlie and Matty are here.’

She pulled the two children closer. ‘Stay with Mum. I won’t be long, don’t worry.’

As she looked back from the door, Mrs Gilbie was reaching out to the two children, so that they were half on the tiny bed with her. Nellie threw on her mackintosh and hat, then dashed out and fumbled with the wet padlock. She had to find Sam in time, but where to look first? She knew he was picking up grain somewhere in Surrey Docks, but the docks and basins covered a vast area and it was getting towards evening now. What if he’d already made his collection and she missed him?

Out in the street, it was much colder now. The rain had stopped, but dark skies still threatened. She threw herself on to the penny-farthing and sped, heedless of anything but finding Sam, back down Rotherhithe Street, the great loop of the river always on her right-hand side. Pedalling hard, the first icy drops of hail stung her face and hands. When she got to the familiar frontage of Jock’s shop, she pulled hard on the spoon brake. Letting the bike fall, she dashed into the dark tar-smelling interior of the chandler’s. Jock was tidying coils of rope and looked up, startled.

‘Nellie, whatever’s the matter? Have you come from Sam’s?’

Shivering now and breathless, she nodded, only able to manage staccato bursts. ‘His mum, she’s bad, asking for him. Do you know where he’d be picking up grain?’

Jock took her hands. ‘Nellie, you’re freezing, you can’t get back on that bike. I’ll go.’

But Nellie wouldn’t have it. ‘No, I’ll be quicker on the bike. Just tell me where, there’s not much time.’

Jock reluctantly gave her directions to the huge grain warehouse near the Surrey Canal. ‘Go down towards Stave Dock and it’s right by the entrance. You can’t miss it. Be careful!’ he called after her, but she was already out of the door.

Now she pedalled like the wind, her breath coming in burning gasps. Huge hailstones the size of pigeon’s eggs began to beat down. She’d never seen hail like it! With her vision obscured, she pushed on through the icy piles of hail collecting in the road. At last she saw the entrance to the canal. Dismounting at the warehouse, she searched out the loading bay.

Please God be here, Sam, she prayed silently, every muscle aching and screaming. She’d pushed herself so hard to get here she hardly knew how she would get back. But none of that mattered, so long as Sam saw his beloved mother before she died. Then she spotted him. His cart was in a covered loading bay, fully loaded. He was covering the grain sacks with tarpaulin to keep them dry.

‘Sam!’ she called to him. He looked over at her, hail-battered, dripping and bedraggled as she was, and his face registered fear. He knew.

‘Mum?’ was all he said.

She felt a pain shoot through her, knowing what he would have to face, but she kept her voice calm. ‘She’s waiting for you, Sam, but go now, there might not be much time!’

He nodded grimly, looking at the cart. ‘I can’t leave the load here…’

He looked so hesitant and vulnerable she made the decision for him. ‘Take the cart home, then.’

‘Will you come with me, Nellie?’

‘Of course I will, Sam, if you want me there. You go on, I’ll follow on this. Go on, go quickly!’

She cycled back more slowly. Mercifully, the hail was easing, though the streets and rooftops were now so deep in ice they looked coated in snow. She stopped off at Jock’s to let him know what had happened, then made her way back to Sam’s. She dreaded what she would find, but she steeled herself to be as strong for Sam as he’d been for her when her father had died. Charlie opened the door without a word and she followed silently. Sam, seated beside his mother’s bed, looked up at her as she entered the room. Had he been in time? She looked down at Lizzie, whose eyes were closed, but her breath still came, weak and erratic now. Lizzie Gilbie’s children had formed a protective circle round her bed; now they made a space for Nellie and it didn’t seem to her like an intrusion. Lizzie’s eyes opened, resting on each of her children in turn and then upon Nellie. She smiled, as though to herself, and said, ‘Ah, she’s here, they’ll be all right now. I’m ready to go and see my Michael.’

Then she closed her eyes and, still smiling, drifted away.

21

Orphans of the Storm

It seemed natural for the children to melt into Nellie’s arms, and for Sam to join the circle to enclose them all. This was how Jock and Lily found them when they walked in through the unlocked front door. Jock immediately went to Sam, offering his hand and whispering a quiet condolence. Nellie was relieved to see her friend, for there was no one she’d rather have beside her in a crisis than Lily. Straight away, Lily saw Sam would need someone with him to attend to his mother and to the children. She drew Nellie into the scullery.

‘If you want to stay with Sam for a bit, me and Jock’ll go and tell Alice where you are.’

‘Oh, thanks, Lil, I was beginning to worry about her. She’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.’

‘Well, you’re not to worry. Sam needs you here for now. We’ll come back later and stay with this lot while Sam takes you home. How’s that?’

Nellie kissed Lily and the young couple left quietly for Vauban Street, letting themselves out.

After the grief of the children had subsided, Nellie tucked them up into bed and left Sam comforting them, while she went to the kitchen where Lizzie lay. She did what she had done for her own mother at far too young an age. Death for her no longer held any horror. She had seen her two baby brothers die while still in their cots, then her mother fade away under the burden of hard work and her father cruelly crushed by the weight of his own grief. Now she treated death as what it was, another part of life.

She washed the woman, carefully combed her once fiery hair, and pulled the sheet up to her chin. Lizzie looked peaceful, contented even, all the marks of woe and worry lifted forever.

‘I can’t believe she’s gone.’

It was Sam’s voice behind her. He slumped down into the chair next to his mother and held his head in his hands, raking his fingers through his hair. His shoulders began to shake and Nellie could tell he was trying to stifle his sobs.

‘Sorry, Nell, sorry,’ he said, apologizing for the tears, wiping them away. ‘It’s not like I’m the first to go through it. I should be stronger, got to be, for the kids.’

Going to his side, she put her arm round his shoulders. ‘Time enough for strength, Sam. You let yourself go now, it’s only me.’ She was comforted that he trusted her enough to let the heaving sobs take him and the tears run down freely. When he was able to speak, he looked up and said, ‘I thought I was prepared, oh, but, Nell, I never thought it would hurt so much.’

Then Nellie’s heart broke for him and they both cried quietly, while Lizzie lay serenely beside them. When eventually his crying ebbed, Nellie went to make them tea. She came back with two cups of brown, steaming, sweet tea and he took his, gratefully.

‘Thanks, Nell, for coming to get me and for staying. I’m glad I wasn’t here on me own.’

‘You didn’t leave me on
my
own when Dad died, did you?’

‘Well, I’m grateful, that’s all. I don’t know why this is such a shock for me, Nellie. I suppose it’s all these years she’s kept going and I can’t understand why now, why now?’

‘When did she first get ill, Sam?’

His eyes wandered to his mother and he seemed to think back.

‘She was always living on her nerves, never really strong, but she had a will of iron and that’s what kept her going. Lost two little babies and then had the worry of my simple brother. He died before I was born and I know it broke her heart. The doctors always said it was her liver packed up, ’cause of years of hard work and worry. But you know what I think took the life out of her?’

Nellie shook her head.

‘When me dad died; that’s when she took to her bed and she’s never been the same since.’

‘Did she manage to talk to you before I got here?’

Nellie knew it was important to fix Lizzie’s last words and looks in his mind. She herself had fed upon the last words of her father like a starving woman, and they had made up for so much that sometimes she simply forgot the harshness of former years.

‘She did say something. She said I was to keep the family together and she said I was to…’ He hesitated, seeming unsure whether to go on. ‘Well, she said I was to look after you.’

‘Me? Look after me? I don’t need looking after!’ Nellie said, bewildered.

‘Don’t you?’ he asked.

Nellie was surprised for the second time in her life by Lizzie Gilbie’s assessment of her. She was flustered. ‘Well, I’m blowed, your mother! First she wants me to look after her kids when she’s gone, then she’s asking you to look after me!’

Sam actually laughed and shook his head. ‘You can never second-guess my mum, she’s always making her plans. Don’t mean to say any of us ever take much notice of them, though!’

Nellie laughed with him, glad he could speak of Lizzie as though she were still with him.

‘One other thing she did, though, I think that’s what’s made me so upset. She got Matty to sing for her. One of Dad’s favourites. His people came from around Loch Lomond years back and he loved the old Scottish songs. Matty picked them up so quick.’

‘Which one did she want?’

‘“My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose”. Matty sang it all the way through, not a note wrong, what a little trouper.’

Here Sam had to blow his nose again and dab at his eyes. Nellie knew the old air and she thought she understood why Lizzie Gilbie had chosen to die now. She whispered the last verse almost without thinking.

‘And fare thee well my only love,

And fare thee well a while

And I will come again my love

Though twer ten thousand mile.’

‘You wanted to know why she went now, Sam. Don’t you remember her last words?’

He nodded, understanding dawning. ‘She said she was ready to go and see her Michael now.’

‘She missed him, Sam, she just missed him.’

All this time the horse and cart had been tied up outside. Sam had checked on Blackie once, but the horse had stood patiently, waiting for the human drama to play itself out in the house. When Lily and Jock returned, Sam hefted the penny-farthing up on to the grain sacks in the cart, roping it on firmly. The rain still lashed down in sheets as they clambered up on to the cart. It was as if the storm was reluctant to let them go and they hunkered down, submitting to it. Sam looked across at Nellie, swathed in her father’s mackintosh with the rain bonnet covering her frizzled hair, and as rain streamed down his face, he smiled.

‘You do look a bit funny.’

‘I always try to look me best,’ she replied tartly, glad to give him some amusement.

‘Ge’up!’ he called to Blackie and the cart lurched forward. Clattering along through the rain-painted streets, they talked about what Sam would do now. He had to shout above the pummelling rain. ‘I’ll leave the cart in the yard and explain to Wicks; better go and see him tonight, or I won’t have a job on Monday!’

She didn’t envy Sam his interview. ‘Best not to expect any sympathy from that old git, but you’ll need time off to see the undertaker and the vicar.’

‘I’ll go Monday; he’ll have to find someone else to deliver this load.’

‘What will you do about the kids?’

‘That’s not for you to worry about, Nell.’

She sighed, exasperated at his pride. ‘I wasn’t
worrying
, I’m just asking, and anyway, we’re both orphans now.’ She let that sink in. ‘And I want to help… if you need it.’

‘Sorry, Nellie, ’course I’ll be grateful for your help, but you know that damn promise makes me feel awkward. Any rate, they’re not such kids any more. Charlie’s thirteen and Matty’s twelve, and, to be honest, she learned how to run the house years ago. I reckon I can manage with ’em till they start work.’

‘Well, I suppose yer mum knew that as well, eh?’

Lizzie Gilbie had waited as long as she could, but now that it came to it, Nellie felt almost robbed. After all, she had promised to look after them. Still, she offered what she could.

‘It might be harder for Matty. Twelve’s not an easy age for a girl, Sam. We’ll have her over to us, me and Alice. There’s things she won’t want to talk to her big brother about.’

Nellie could see Sam blushing by the light of the cart lamp. He coughed and thanked her.

‘Tell you what, Nell, there is something you could do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You could give her a few cooking lessons. She might be able to sing, but she can’t bloody cook for toffee!’

They laughed together and then fell into silence, broken only by the beating rain on the tarpaulin and Blackie’s hooves striking the cobbles. Just as they turned into Spa Road, the rain stopped.

‘Look, Sam!’ Nellie exclaimed.

The full moon rode high above the black jumble of roofs and chimneys, just as the clouds parted, allowing an inky window of sky to reveal its shining face, almost too bright to bear after the gloom of the day.

Lizzie’s funeral was a small affair, just her children and Sam’s friends. Sam’s second cousins, Betty Bosher and George Gilbie of the Green Ginger, came too. Nellie was pleased for Sam that at least a few relatives were there. George Gilbie, not famed for his generosity, even offered to put on drinks and sandwiches at the Green Ginger after the funeral.